He used the Budget against me. How low can one get?
I got a job.
Its a part time thing until the truck is paid off. If I get the hours I should have the truck paid off by September. So here's where I confess. I decided this morning that I wasn't going to take it, but I would see what they had to say so I could tell Hubby the truth that I went to the interview.
I told the manager that I was upfront, blunt and do not brook any political crap in the work place. I slam it down as soon as it hits. Then I basically said because of the dogs and that two are considered special needs, I have a twenty minute leeway of leaving them by themselves. (Yes Artist, I know I stretched the truth but cut me some slack I was trying to blow an interview.) I said that I would be in the store by six when my shift starts. I also explained my medical situation with my head and a brief synopsis of the family and that they come first. I didn't hide a thing. I'm not sure where exactly it happened in the interview but I start tomorrow night at six.
I went shopping.
I told Hubby I needed slacks and new shoes for the job. I got the cutest pair of heels (Only an 1 1/2 inches) with little tassels. Once I break them in they will be like slippers. Yes this all sounds very shallow but, I figured if Hubby gets his way on this issue then I sure as hell will get something out of it in return. Kind of one of those little digs to make my point. Its like the shoes. That was my pushing it to see how far Hubby will let me go before his guilt is overridden by the budget. That and announcing last night no sex for however long this stint is because I will be too tired. I'm sure that will drive my point home about not working. Am I so going to enjoy this slow torture of Hubby. Every waking moment.
I'm thinking the first paycheck, I'm getting my nails done. Mind you they really get in the way of typing and I am slow at it is. So that one I will have to think about.
I will be doing my utmost to drive the man insane the entire time I am working. I have little things in mind like leaving a really disgusting crusty dish and make him scrub it. That and the Kitty Litter box.
And I hope the man learns to enjoy meatloaf cause I'm going to be cooking it an awful lot just for him. I'll make sure its full of Green Peppers cause he hates those to and tons of "That Red Crap" as Hubby refers to the sauce.
I did agree that when we bought the truck that if need be, I would go to work and help pay for it. I will honour that agreement. I never said anything about not making him suffer while I do it though. Hubby really needs to learn to read the fine print of my statements.
I will be bucking to quit in about July. That will give me at least three months worth of material to use against Hubby.
Its a good thing that man adores me. I'd be really screwed then. Nothing to take advantage of.
And I wonder why our friends sympathize with him. Even Artist at times. But then I sympathize with her Hubby...at times...sort of...But not at much as she sympathizes with my Hubby.
I did explain once to Artist's Hubby that it was my duty as her best friend to drive him nuts. He didn't take me very seriously for some reason. He is very much ex-British Military, stiff upper lip type, with a very wicked dry sense of humour. The type if your too sensitive you could get hurt.
I used to work with him. Some days I would follow behind after one of his quick dry retorts and whisper to the co-worker standing there blinking at his backside, "He's kidding."
Heavy sigh...At least I can quit without reprisals from Hubby. I should really get that in writing shouldn't I. That and the no sex part should definitely be in writing. I think I'll go type it up and I'll point out the fine print to Hubby before he signs in his own blood.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
फील थे नीद तो रंत (Feel the Need to Rant)
Great!!! Now I can type in a foriegn language but I can not speak it. I understand the why's but really, can I just do something for once that does not entail me having to research the entire internet to find out how to do something. So I'm slightly frustrated. Actually frustrated isn't quite accurate.
You know when you spend three days trying to achieve one task and everytime you sit down there is something that takes you away again, or the phone rings or the cats wants up or the dog wants out or there is somebody at the door. The last three days has seemed like a total waste. Stuff got done not what I set out to do but other stuff. Like....um....er...there's...nope that didn't get cleaned...hang on I'm thinking. So you get the point.
There are two people in my life that have my permission to distrupt my day at any given point. That is my mother and Artist. The reason is, I can say to them, grab a coffee I'm in the middle of something and they will have their coffee as I get my chore done. And Hubby thinks, I sit all day and do nothing.
My mother once gave her job description to her best friend. I was old enough to remember and have quoted her since.
Position available, duties include,
cooking, laundry, grocery shopping, errands, all kinds of appointments, must deal with plumbers and other contractors, child-care and pet care. No holidays, no pay and little gratitude.
I think I know where Hubby hid the wine. I could really use a glass while having a nice hot bubble bath with the jets beating me to death and the dog whines on the outside of the door because he's separated from Mommy.
To Hell with just a glass. I'll drink it straight from the bottle.
You know when you spend three days trying to achieve one task and everytime you sit down there is something that takes you away again, or the phone rings or the cats wants up or the dog wants out or there is somebody at the door. The last three days has seemed like a total waste. Stuff got done not what I set out to do but other stuff. Like....um....er...there's...nope that didn't get cleaned...hang on I'm thinking. So you get the point.
There are two people in my life that have my permission to distrupt my day at any given point. That is my mother and Artist. The reason is, I can say to them, grab a coffee I'm in the middle of something and they will have their coffee as I get my chore done. And Hubby thinks, I sit all day and do nothing.
My mother once gave her job description to her best friend. I was old enough to remember and have quoted her since.
Position available, duties include,
cooking, laundry, grocery shopping, errands, all kinds of appointments, must deal with plumbers and other contractors, child-care and pet care. No holidays, no pay and little gratitude.
I think I know where Hubby hid the wine. I could really use a glass while having a nice hot bubble bath with the jets beating me to death and the dog whines on the outside of the door because he's separated from Mommy.
To Hell with just a glass. I'll drink it straight from the bottle.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Coffee Break.
Its warm and sunny out. Not that is a bad thing even though it means a backyard of mud with five dogs to run through it and drag it into the house. I wish spring was like a week from start to finish so I only have to deal with the dirt in a matter of days rather than weeks. With all the extra light I am finding more housework to do. Its amazing what appears when the sun shares its heat. I have dust bunnies tanning in the parlor. I think I'll take a quick coffee break and warm up the fingers for writing.
So I found out last night that coffee and laptops do not mix. This morning in the efforts to save Hubby from tearing apart my puter I (after making sure it was ok and did not hiss and spit at me) decided to down load a spyware program that I had accidentally removed. I down loaded what I thought would be a help only to have my entire system start to crash in slow motion. It was very weird. Almost like a game you can't wait to lose cause you know the humiliation of defeat can begin and you can move on.
So the result was, Hubby came down the stairs as I was fighting away. He might have garnered a hint that something was wrong by the swearing at the screen. I swear I saw a tongue appear on the screen and it gave me a raspberry. So Hubby spend the first twenty minutes of his morning fixing my screw up. Its a good thing the man loves me. I know he does. I told him so.
He's happily married too. Or at least he will be when he believes me.
So now my puter is feeling much lighter and happier, until that was I decided to change my other blog. Why is it, we can not just give a command and have it happen or if it doesn't happen explain in simple human terms why you can't. I have spent the last two hours trying to remove a feature that is necessary to the html. I eventually got smart and decided to read up on the feature I was trying to kill. Found out a) I can't and b) if somebody as an alert for updates then they wouldn't get it if I removed it.
Not to be defeated I fixed it. I changed the whole thing and solved another problem I was having. I'm hoping it means I've won against technology, even if it means for today.
I must say it has been interesting lately with everything. Mom has been very supportive in my endeavor in writing. Her suggesting various titles and names has left astounded at the very least. I envisioned myself in the future being interviewed and the question of how I began writing Porn comes up. I saw myself answering, something along the line of "My mother was the biggest influence. She suggested a title for a book."
Actually my Mom despite the content is really pleased. It took a bit for her to understand the type of sensuality. My father was really easy. We were in Chapters just before Christmas and there was a table set up for a book signing. I scoffed at the latest Star Wars book to ride that coat tail. I said to Dad that someday I would be signing books. Albeit outside a sex shop but I would be signing books. Dad laughed and said "well if somebody's willing to buy it." I said, " I'm willing to write it. " But he got it.
Mom on the other hand it took the cover art to explain what I write. That was the first of "I'm so proud" oozing in sarcasm. I tried before telling her. Like when she said we could collaborate. She will write the story and I'll fill in the rest. She asked me how many pages, I said two. She asked me how long the book would be I said, 360 pages. She laughed but I don't think she took me seriously. (Not that my stories are 358 pages of sex. My brain does not have the imagination capacity I would need for such a challenge.)
Speaking of which, I had better put another pot of coffee on. I expect Mom to drop by with more of her helpful outlines. God help me, I won't make it without the thrumming of caffeine in my veins. But I think I'll keep my computer far away from it.
So I found out last night that coffee and laptops do not mix. This morning in the efforts to save Hubby from tearing apart my puter I (after making sure it was ok and did not hiss and spit at me) decided to down load a spyware program that I had accidentally removed. I down loaded what I thought would be a help only to have my entire system start to crash in slow motion. It was very weird. Almost like a game you can't wait to lose cause you know the humiliation of defeat can begin and you can move on.
So the result was, Hubby came down the stairs as I was fighting away. He might have garnered a hint that something was wrong by the swearing at the screen. I swear I saw a tongue appear on the screen and it gave me a raspberry. So Hubby spend the first twenty minutes of his morning fixing my screw up. Its a good thing the man loves me. I know he does. I told him so.
He's happily married too. Or at least he will be when he believes me.
So now my puter is feeling much lighter and happier, until that was I decided to change my other blog. Why is it, we can not just give a command and have it happen or if it doesn't happen explain in simple human terms why you can't. I have spent the last two hours trying to remove a feature that is necessary to the html. I eventually got smart and decided to read up on the feature I was trying to kill. Found out a) I can't and b) if somebody as an alert for updates then they wouldn't get it if I removed it.
Not to be defeated I fixed it. I changed the whole thing and solved another problem I was having. I'm hoping it means I've won against technology, even if it means for today.
I must say it has been interesting lately with everything. Mom has been very supportive in my endeavor in writing. Her suggesting various titles and names has left astounded at the very least. I envisioned myself in the future being interviewed and the question of how I began writing Porn comes up. I saw myself answering, something along the line of "My mother was the biggest influence. She suggested a title for a book."
Actually my Mom despite the content is really pleased. It took a bit for her to understand the type of sensuality. My father was really easy. We were in Chapters just before Christmas and there was a table set up for a book signing. I scoffed at the latest Star Wars book to ride that coat tail. I said to Dad that someday I would be signing books. Albeit outside a sex shop but I would be signing books. Dad laughed and said "well if somebody's willing to buy it." I said, " I'm willing to write it. " But he got it.
Mom on the other hand it took the cover art to explain what I write. That was the first of "I'm so proud" oozing in sarcasm. I tried before telling her. Like when she said we could collaborate. She will write the story and I'll fill in the rest. She asked me how many pages, I said two. She asked me how long the book would be I said, 360 pages. She laughed but I don't think she took me seriously. (Not that my stories are 358 pages of sex. My brain does not have the imagination capacity I would need for such a challenge.)
Speaking of which, I had better put another pot of coffee on. I expect Mom to drop by with more of her helpful outlines. God help me, I won't make it without the thrumming of caffeine in my veins. But I think I'll keep my computer far away from it.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Sheet Tug of War
Hubby is so getting meatloaf for supper tonight. I love the man dearly, I really do. I am beginning to think its the cross I must bear in this life. I spent the night fighting him for a cover, I would have been happy with one sheet. But no, I must lie next to the window with a soft chilling you to the bone type draft gently wafting over me so the freezing is slow. He claims its the dogs. Yeah, okay. Two Chihuahua's who weigh maybe combined a total of 14lbs, are holding down the covers and pinning them there. I finally manage to get the duvet over my shoulders and drift into a wonderful warm sleep when his alarm goes of for the first time. It must go off at least four times before he gets up. This morning I got up on the third alarm and it startled Hubby causing him to stab me with his Ninja Toe Weapons. At this point I threw off the edge of the duvet and got up. I know when a battle is lost. But the war is yet to be won.
He had the nerve to be some what chipper this morning. That really ticked me off. He is never chipper. Ask Artist. She has seen him when one of his black moods hit. I love it when that happens. I will find any excuse to invade his cave with Artist and blather on about something I want to change, just to watch his expressions. Its hilarious. He will roll his eyes or clamp his jaw. Hubby is always pleasant when Artist is around. He would never be rude. And once in a while it will actually put him in a better mood. So its not just to torture him, although that is right up there at number one.
It goes both ways. Hubby has his ways of revenge. Like coming into the kitchen and suggesting I do something a certain way in cooking. He used to do this constantly until one day he was working on a computer trying to fix it. I went downstairs and sat on a step and asked what he was doing. He explained something was wrong internally. So I started to suggest the dumbest things I could think of to fix the computer. Finally he got a little miffed with me. Then I pointed it out that I knew as much about computers as he knew of cooking. It stopped his Mr. Fix It when it came to cooking. Now he does it just to get kicked out of the kitchen if I get too chatty.
Hubby has this panther lamp. This thing is hideous. I have been demising it death especially if Hubby ticks me off. This thing would be more happy with velvet paintings and a lava lamp. If your into that kind of thing make me an offer. Its entirely black so the dust on it has given it a lovely accenting in the ridges. Yes I hate that thing, but Hubby loves it. So its in the dungeon, Hubby's domain. I don't take Artist there, I couldn't live with the guilt of terrorizing her with the Hell in my basement.
Hubby wants a shed for his woodworking. I think that's a good idea. It will save his life a lot of the time. My condition was that all the stuff in the house has to be done first and that the shed be 100% complete. It is in my Hubby's DNA to leave the last remaining six inches done. But that is for another rant another day. I did not think my request was unreasonable. We came to an agreement that we would prep the yard for it this year and attack our bills with zest to payout a loan freeing up money. (This is the plan. We will talk in a year.)
Now Hubby is miffed because I am refusing to get a job. My reasons are thus; I can't guarantee that I can work full hours because of my health. He will not help me with the house cleaning as the past has proven. I really do not want to go back to the other diet we were on and if I'm working, we are back on crap. And the list continues. If I commiserate with Artist long enough, we could come up a whole slew more.
oh well, I'll give him a back rub and stuff an organic meatloaf down his throat. That will make everything much better. Well I'll feel better anyway.
He had the nerve to be some what chipper this morning. That really ticked me off. He is never chipper. Ask Artist. She has seen him when one of his black moods hit. I love it when that happens. I will find any excuse to invade his cave with Artist and blather on about something I want to change, just to watch his expressions. Its hilarious. He will roll his eyes or clamp his jaw. Hubby is always pleasant when Artist is around. He would never be rude. And once in a while it will actually put him in a better mood. So its not just to torture him, although that is right up there at number one.
It goes both ways. Hubby has his ways of revenge. Like coming into the kitchen and suggesting I do something a certain way in cooking. He used to do this constantly until one day he was working on a computer trying to fix it. I went downstairs and sat on a step and asked what he was doing. He explained something was wrong internally. So I started to suggest the dumbest things I could think of to fix the computer. Finally he got a little miffed with me. Then I pointed it out that I knew as much about computers as he knew of cooking. It stopped his Mr. Fix It when it came to cooking. Now he does it just to get kicked out of the kitchen if I get too chatty.
Hubby has this panther lamp. This thing is hideous. I have been demising it death especially if Hubby ticks me off. This thing would be more happy with velvet paintings and a lava lamp. If your into that kind of thing make me an offer. Its entirely black so the dust on it has given it a lovely accenting in the ridges. Yes I hate that thing, but Hubby loves it. So its in the dungeon, Hubby's domain. I don't take Artist there, I couldn't live with the guilt of terrorizing her with the Hell in my basement.
Hubby wants a shed for his woodworking. I think that's a good idea. It will save his life a lot of the time. My condition was that all the stuff in the house has to be done first and that the shed be 100% complete. It is in my Hubby's DNA to leave the last remaining six inches done. But that is for another rant another day. I did not think my request was unreasonable. We came to an agreement that we would prep the yard for it this year and attack our bills with zest to payout a loan freeing up money. (This is the plan. We will talk in a year.)
Now Hubby is miffed because I am refusing to get a job. My reasons are thus; I can't guarantee that I can work full hours because of my health. He will not help me with the house cleaning as the past has proven. I really do not want to go back to the other diet we were on and if I'm working, we are back on crap. And the list continues. If I commiserate with Artist long enough, we could come up a whole slew more.
oh well, I'll give him a back rub and stuff an organic meatloaf down his throat. That will make everything much better. Well I'll feel better anyway.
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